This week’s post is going to be short and to the point. I fell off the gluten wagon last week and have been paying the price ever since. Binging on bread and pasta and cake is a mistake I will remember, I can’t say it won’t happen again, but I will say I’ll think of the consequences I personally experienced next time I’m Jonesing. When I told Jimmy I was going to blog about it, he told me to not beat myself up, things happen. Yeah …

I’m not beating myself up, I know other people who have fallen and had to go back to square one to begin the elimination process all over again. I also know falling leads to other issues. I’ve been sick all week. Swollen, bloated, congested, coughing… things that should be chalked up to a normal cold. But when I went back to eating gluten free, my symptoms began to disappear. I still have a residual cough and the crap in my lungs has finally broken up enough I can cough it out, but let’s just say I’ve never had a regular cold run the course this quickly. Others who have fallen have taken much longer to recover and I count myself blessed.

I made 2 batches of soup, that’s what I wanted to eat and since I was sick I made what I knew I could eat without having any issues. First I made chicken and rice. No recipe for that one. It did the job and was gone in less than 48 hours. Tuesday I made a bigger pot of vegetable soup. I don’t really have a recipe, I just open freezer bags and cans and add them to the pot. I did find a recipe online that is similar and the link to that is here. The photo is not mine and is credited to Jaclyn of Cooking Classy

I spent most of the holiday weekend either in bed or on the couch. It really sucks when you can’t lay down to sleep and have to be propped up by 5 or 6 pillows in order to breathe. At one point I think I was hallucinating about being in the hospital, that’s how uncomfortable I was. And the poor fur babies didn’t know what to do. Calliope was in overdrive panic mode, all up in my personal space making sure I was ok and sending me healing through her little snuggles. Chaos, even though she was concerned and was snuggled up close as well, seemed to be the more chill of the two. She’d check on me, make sure I was still breathing and then curl back up in her ball between my knees.

Jimmy was a saint through it all. I normally do not like for anyone to try to take care of me when I’m not well and am usually pretty grumpy when you try. But, he didn’t hover, made sure I was comfortable, even brought the Star Thistle honey and a spoon when nothing else seemed to help with the coughing. He even cooked his own dinner on Sunday. Yep, I have a hell of a man and I’m SO proud to call him mine.

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